VELVET CHAINS

Leah's POV The music pulsed like a heartbeat, slow and seductive, vibrating through the soles of my heels and into the marrow of my bones. I moved across the stage with the elegance of a woman who’d long ago stopped dancing for pleasure. Now, I dance for survival. The spotlight hit my skin like liquid fire, casting my curves in gold, my shadow long and lean behind me. Every movement on the pole was calculated—graceful, deliberate, and just detached enough to keep the illusion intact. Because if I gave them too much, they’d think they owned me. And no one owned Leah Blue except for the silence and bills. Not anymore. I didn’t dance for attention, I danced for control . Eyes followed me—dozens of them. Most were drunk, others were desperate and disconnected. The crowd roared beneath me as I executed a flawless spin, my hair was tied in a bun over my shoulders. Bills fluttered like confetti, but I never broke the rhythm. Never made eye contact. That was the rule. The club oozed perfume, ambition, and forgotten dreams. It was the kind of place where women wore masks made of eyeliner and men mistook money for power. I slid down the pole, let my spine curve, and locked eyes with no one. That was the trick—you never give your gaze away. Your eyes were the last part of you worth keeping. Until I saw him. He didn’t belong here. He wasn't sitting with the rest of them; he was seated in the VIP section of the room, in the far left corner, behind the velvet rope where no one crossed without a name. He wasn’t leering or laughing like the rest of them. He didn’t drink, didn’t flirt, didn’t move. He sat in a chair covered in fur like royalty tucked beneath him, his hands were placed under his chin, watching her like a man staring down a storm. Dark suit. Clean lines. Cold eyes. He screamed about Money. Power. Control. Something twisted low in my stomach. A spark I didn’t want. A warning I couldn’t shake. I turned away, trying to break whatever spell had begun. That was the second rule—you don’t flirt with the devils in suits. Not unless you wanted to get burned. But his presence clung to my skin like smoke. The song ended, and the applause rose like thunder, which meant nothing. I then disappeared backstage. The dressing room was full of glitter and ghosts. Girls were laughing too loudly, sprayed too much perfume, and reapplied their smiles before heading to the stage. I peeled off my stage skin—the corset, lashes, and fantasy—I sat down in the front of the mirror. My phone buzzed. Five missed calls from Coral’s school, two unread texts from my landlord, and one flashing notification from the pharmacy: Reminder: Coral’s prescription is ready. Balance due:$486.32.’’ I blinked back the headache forming in my head. My fingers hovered over the screen. I thought of texting my sister, but what would I say? I exhaled, grabbing my silk robe as I slipped out the back door, my heart racing too fast. “Jesus, Leah,” muttered Roxy, my best friend and fellow dancer. “You lit the room on fire tonight. Who were you dancing for?” she asked with a mischievous smile. “No one,” I said too quickly. Roxy raised a brow. “Well, whoever he was, I bet he couldn't take his eyes off you.” I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to give him power by acknowledging his effect. Roxy raised a brow. ‘’Well, whoever he was, he sure knows how to rattle you. I scoffed and turned away, heels in one hand, bag in the other, ready to leave the club behind for the night. My shift was over, and I needed to rest. But just as I reached the back hallway, Charles, the club manager, intercepted me. "Someone was impressed with your performance tonight, Leah," he said without shifting his gaze. "He wants to have a private session with you and asks for your price. I felt slightly insulted and couldn’t help but frown. ‘’You could’ve said this without making me feel like an escort. "I don’t do private dances. He said it’s not that kind of request. ‘’He just wants your company. For thirty minutes. He’s offering a million. I blinked. ‘’A million dollars? For what?’’ "He said he is willing to pay a million dollars." He said more seriously this time. He didn’t even flinch when I repeated the number. It felt like a trap. Too surreal. Too tempting. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe anything came without a price. But money like that could change things. It could clear my debt. Pay the rent for six months. Get Coral the medication she needed. I looked at my reflection on my phone, hesitating. I was stunned. Who the hell is this guy? And why is he willing to spend this much for a thirty-minute session? The moment I stepped into the velvet-curtain private room, his eyes locked on mine. I turned, as if trying to run away—anything to keep my dignity intact—but his voice caught me off guard. ‘’I wouldn’t run if I were you.’’ He was calm, icy, and unreadable. ‘’Unless you prefer to forfeit a million dollars tonight. He wasn’t throwing bills like most men would do. There was restraint in him, a kind of command that came from never needing to beg. Just then, my phone rang, the screen lit up before I could decide. Perfect timing. It was from Coral’s school. My heart dropped as I answered. ‘’Hello?’’ A rushed voice came through the line. ‘’Miss Leah?’’ ‘’Yes?’’ ‘’I’m calling from County Medical. Your sister was brought in a few minutes ago.’’ My heart sank. I swallowed hard. ‘’What happened?’’ She’s still unconscious. I’m so sorry. There’s been an accident.’’ I couldn’t breathe. Then came the words that shattered my heart. ‘’Your sister was involved in a terrible accident.’’